This week on a sultry Sunday evening I received a telephone call from an old friend, more than a friend as we grew up in adjacent houses, close enough that as kids we communicated with a tin can each and a string connecting the cans. It was silly times for sure. We heard our voices but was it the string and can network or we did we hear each other despite it!
Ben always had tall tales to tell and this time was no exception. From the greater Sudbury area, it is not surprising that he was always involved with snowmobiling. In fact he is on the executive committee.
One year a new member joined the club. On this day he questioned Ben’s accent that Be could never shake since he left the Valley. The newbie then asked where exactly he came from. Westmeath was the reply. “The wife’s mother was born and raised in Beachburg,” the newbie said. Ben knew who the woman was. The last time he had met her was 20 years ago at a funeral. She had recognized Ben immediately which was all he would say about her.
Ben had a friendly relationship one time with a license bureau operator. Years later he got to know the operators son by coincidence. Over a coffee one morning, the son recognizing where Ben grew up said, “My parents and us kids spent many summers near there. It was on a farm near the Perrettin Church.” After more jawing, they each claimed they each had an Aunt Lizzie in that area. Shocking to both, it was the same aunt – they were cousins.
Coincidences are a curious thing. Before the pandemic in Ottawa I was boarding a Via train for Oshawa at exactly the time someone I knew was exiting. She was returning from a rock concert in Montreal. We only had time for a quick hello and goodbye.
The one that amazed me the most occurred in the O’Keefe Centre long ago. Working in Hamilton I had taken my girlfriend to see Paul Anka’s show in Toronto. Just settled into our seats a voice directly behind said, “I’d recognize a boy from Westmeath anywhere.” It was two sisters from Cobden. Uncanny. I never met either of them since.
I believe that the people who “cross our path” are doing so for a reason. It would seem that whoever steps into our life are there to “teach” us something that we lack. Or it was meant for us to teach them something. In simple terms, every person you meet has a purpose to add value to the encounter, whether lasting for an hour, a day or 10 years.
Onetime in the eighties I had two coincidences at a Maple Leaf hockey game. It was the Saturday evening that Gretsky was playing for Edmonton, scoring a hat trick.
During the first period I met the guy who interviewed me for a new job that very week. He said, “You will get an offer next week.” I did too.
In the second period I met a friend from Ottawa that I attended college with. He often came home for weekends with me to Westmeath. Then he suddenly got married and ended up working in Australia for years. We hugged and exchanged numbers. The restored friendship is still ongoing.
Yes, he got to know Ben fairly well. In fact the three of us as teens were in my father’s new car and when returning from Waltham, I botched the corner at Greenwood Road & Beachburg Road. The car, nose-front virtually buried itself in a huge snowbank. We managed to dig out, cleaned up the car and never had to explain to my dad.
One chance meeting was in 1959 during Khrushchev’s American tour when he visited 20th Century Fox. Marilyn Monroe welcomed him while wearing a low-cut, tight black dress. The mesmerized Khrushchev said, “You’re a very lovely young lady.” Later, she revealed to her house cleaner, “He was fat and ugly and had warts on his face and he growled. He squeezed my hand so hard that I thought he would break it. Thankfully, I didn’t have to kiss him.”
Never ignore an opportunity to meet someone new. It could solve a mystery or lead to an interesting friendship.
